Midnight Coloured Gift
by Norosae
Summary: The light of the fire revealed a small girl with a tangle of black hair ending at her waist which flung about as she twisted. Her clothes were torn and filthy. She clutched at a stolen pack... And so begins the story of Layla. Follow her journey. R&R :D!
1. Midnight Eyes

MIDNIGHT EYES

The camp fire thrust the tree's shadows outwards creating a harsh circle of light and dark fading into the otherwise black night. A deer carcass roasted on the fire while the soldiers watched it with hungry eyes, a result of the afternoon's hunt. The watchman yawned near the horses, leaning on his spear. The crackling of the fire and alluring odour of roasting meat accompanied the camp's easy silence.

A soldier's head snapped around. A scuffling noise was coming from near the packs. "Wolf I'd say" he grunted as he rose after a nod of approval from the camp's captain.

He drew short sword and advanced towards the disturbance. The others rose. There was movement at the edge of the firelight. He gave the packs a wide birth to avoid any noise. He was almost upon the dark shape now. He lifted his sword, ready to strike. Then, as his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he realised he was mistaken. It was human. With a growl he grabbed it from behind. The intruder shrieked and flailed, trying to escape.

It was pitifully light. He grimly carried it into the camp. The light of the fire revealed a small girl with a tangle of black hair ending at her waist which flung about as she twisted. Her clothes were torn and filthy. She clutched at a stolen pack while she already had a piece of dried meet ration in her mouth.

"It's a girl-child," another soldier observed, surprised.

The captain advanced towards the child the other man now held by the scruff of her torn garment. She devoured her morsel quickly.

"Give 'er some meat, capt'n. She's skin 'n' bones!" A soldier geared from his place near the fire.

"We gut her through you oaf. Can't let her run an' tell our whereabouts," another soldier rebuked, cuffing the other.

"Silence!" The captain roared and walked towards her for closer examination. She lifted her gaze defiantly. Only then did he notice her eyes. Globes of infinite depth stared back at him the same deep blue shade as the night sky above. They held her fear and courage in equal measure. Even though there was nothing obviously wrong with them, her eyes unnerved him. It was as if she looked into his soul.

In one swift movement he cut the length of her hair. Released of the confines of her shoulders, it danced around her face. He held up the hair. "For the meat you stole." He smirked. When she did not reply his eyes hardened and his voice changed to harder tones. "Where are you from little wench?" She kept gazing at him in silent defiance. "Speak!" He roared it in her face. Again, she did not. When he tried to grab the bag of supplies back off her she uttered a string of what he guessed were curses, but in a language he did not know. He scowled.

"Is she of Tortall?" Asked the soldier holding her, hoping someone knew common.

"It doesn't matter," replied the captain. "She's not ours, she can't live. She'll squeal." His eyes were hard. He nodded to the soldier holding her.

The soldier turned her with difficulty. This duty repulsed him, but it was necessary. He held held her tighter with one arm and redrew his sword with the other. He'd sheathed it for a better grip earlier. The girls eyes flashed fearfully between his face and his drawn sword. She started yelling in her tongue with her eyes wide in her grubby face. For the second time that night, he lifted his sword.

A force impacted with his body. He was flying, then falling. A burning sensation licked at his limbs. He hit the ground hard. Stars blurred his sight. He lay disorientated. He could now make out the camp, but barely. The men where on the floor, as him. They'd been knocked down as well? The girl was nowhere to be seen. His last coherent vision he could recall was those deep, burning-blue eyes.

"What happened?" The captain demanded. He had gotten to his feet a few metres away, recovering faster than his men. It took a moment for the soldier to realise he was talking to him. The soldier tried to find the words he needed to explain that he didn't know. They didn't come. He shook his head. Something in the corner of his eye caught his attention as he did so. Turning slowly, he saw that the deer carcass was reduced to nothing but seared bone and the fire was no longer it's natural colour, but had become the very same midnight blue as the girls eyes.

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... And thank you for reading! This makes more sense (to me) in 1/2 view mode, try it xD *is picky*. I dunno, it looks more like a novel. So, what do you think? Please tell me when you finish reading however many chapters you're going to. I'd love to know how you find the story so far!

I thought it would be interesting to write a mage instead of a warrior girl in Tortall-verse. Can you tell I'm hanging out for Numair's books to come out? Anyway, I shant keep you longer. Next chapter~!


	2. Flight

FLIGHT

Layla ran headlong through the woods, driven by her fear. Trees flashed past her. Suddenly she broke onto a game trail. She skidded to turn and began to run along its length. She gained speed on the open path. Her heart throbbed, her sides heaved and her mind raced. The pack she still clutched in her hand banged against her leg. The silent, cool air of the night brushed against her sweaty skin.

When she could run no further she stopped and gasped mouthfuls of air. She listened intently for voices of footsteps from the soldiers. When she heard them, they were far off. "Have I ever run that fast before?" She thought. More than that the burning question in her mind is how she managed to escape. How had she made them fly? "No, think of that later," she reasoned with herself. She took a deep breath to calm her thoughts then turned to the task at hand: running away. Turning back she got a shock to realise that the game trail showed her footsteps as clear as day. Cursing herself, she looked for options to head the soldiers off her trail. If they were following. "If they don't follow me now, they will tomorrow."

She scanned ahead. For a moment all she could see were the silhouettes of trees. Then her eyes made out the flickers through the trees of a stream on her left. She ran off the trail in the opposite direction from the stream. There she stopped and walked back a few places, then launched herself over the path, towards the water. The detour might not work, but it was worth trying. She stumbled upon her landing due to the unexpected weight of the pack, but regained her balance. In the dark she also hadn't seen that the far side of the path curved into a slope.

"How did I see the water then?" She ran down the slope. The stream answered her question for her. It was not a stream, it was a wide river. This was the Vassa river. No wonder the cook fire she'd smelled had belonged to a troop of Scanran soldiers. She'd been heading North-West, not South. Layla cursed her bad luck and herself for misreading the stars. She'd been hoping to walk in the stream as to leave no tracks, but the Vassa flowed fast and unyielding. However, this was better. She began to run in the direction the Vassa flowed. She knew it lead South-West and back into Tortall.

~*~*~

Layla flopped to the ground at the base of the large oak tree she'd discovered. She could run no more. She chest heaved as she lay on her back and looked at the foliage tree above her. Her breathing slowly became more natural. She was cold, tired, sore and ravenous without the adrenaline of the escape in her veins. Her hands met with the soft grass as she used them to boost herself to sit again. She discovered something that felt like food in one of the packs pockets but couldn't see it properly in the dark. She sniffed it, devoured it then leant back against the great tree.

An owl hooted. Rustling came from her left. The trees of the forest groaned in the soft wind. The Vassa splashed. She was alone. She was alone in a forest near the Scanran boarder with a group of soldiers trying to kill her. She hugged her legs feeling much more the scared eleven-year-old she was. Her hair flopped in her eyes. She touched it. Her hair had always been long, now even that had changed. Her old life had been cut out of her. Unbidden memories flashed past her eyes. Her town was in flames. Smoke clogged her throat. She ran around a corner. She saw the butcher, Ross, running, then blood erupted from his chest and slowed to reveal a Scanran's blade. He fell to the ground, dead. She had known him all her life. She shivered. What of her family? She'd seen her older brother Finnian running while cradling her infant sister Mabel. She hadn't seen her parents. And somehow, she'd run through a wall of flame unscathed.

Layla's mind raged unchecked. She thought she would never rest. Slowly, her fatigue overcame her and her waking nightmares turned to dreamless sleep.


	3. Journey

JOURNEY

Sunlight woke her, blinking through the trees. Layla felt disorientated as she shielded her eyes as they adjusted to the new light. Slowly, the nights events came back to her. Her thoughts were still sluggish as she had never been a morning person. The soldiers and her flight now seemed like a dream but she still had the pack, so it must've been real. Layla looked around. The place had been transformed by the light. The forest now seemed friendly and ordinary compared to the eerie quality it had taken on the night before. The terrors of her waking dream now seemed far away. She went down to the Vassa to wash her face, careful not to put too much of her body in lest it pull her under with the current. The forest floor inclined towards the Vassa and cleared around its banks. She felt more alive and aware as she had in days. She looked at herself and realised how filthy she was.

"If I meet any fellow Tortallan's they might think I'm a beast-child and run away!" She said to herself and smiled. She _would _see them soon. She would finally be safe.

She cleaned herself as best she could and returned to explored the pack. It held rations, a hunting knife, a canvas jacket, a flint, an eye-glass and a hunter's horn with Scanran-style engravings. She had been mad to try to steal it, but she had been driven mad by hunger as well. The items were all useful, especially the valuable eye-glass, although she dared not light any fires while still in Scanra. It was almost worth being hunted to have them and the food.

Layla spent the rest of the day walking at a steady pace while taking short breaks to rest and eat. The Vassa road ran parallel to it's river namesake on the opposite side to her. She kept her senses alert and made use of her acquired eye-glass in case those soldiers or anyone else was on the road. Strangely, she saw none. That night she camped in a (hopefully) abandoned cave and used the canvas jacket as a blanket. She settled into this strange routine of walking, resting, eating, walking and sleeping. Once or twice she saw a group on the road and hid behind a tree or bush until they had passed. She didn't dare look to see if they were the soldiers.

On the third day she discovered a fork in the river. She did not have to choose where to follow as she could not cross. She tried to recall her geography lessons from her father. If she was lucky, this was the Brown River and she was headed south and very close to the boarder.

That night she was woken in the hours before dawn by a rain drop hitting her cheek. She hadn't been fortunate enough to find a shelter the day before. Now she peered up into the foreboding, grey sky. It was lighter than night but the sun had yet to emerge, draining the colour from the pre-dawn world. The trees cast no shadows. Thunder gurgled overhead and a few more raindrops hit her person. She yanked out the canvas coat from her pack, hoping that it was waterproofed. The raindrops increased in tempo until the sky opened up and, in an instant, a vertical river seemed to descend upon the land.

"This is an ungodly hour to be up, let alone rain," she complained in the direction of the sky. She sighed. Yet, although In all practicality the rain did not aid her, the sheer magnitude of the water released was amazing. She grinned and drank the rain water, spinning on the spot with her arms outstretched. The Brown river was already churning to a greater hight. The sound of water hitting water was deafening. She continued following the river in the pre-dawn light.

When the sun's light created a perimeter that started creeping over the land, Layla made out a large shape out through the sheet of falling water. The rain had slowed to a monotonous down-poor while the light became more natural but remained overcast. Depth was distorted through the rain so that she could not tell if the shape was a small building close-by or a mountain far away. A few hours after dawn she could see the large bulk of a hill loom out of the drizzle with what looked like a wide tower perched on top.

"I must have crossed the boarder by now. That's a Tortallan outpost!" She grinned to herself. Safety. She had no money, but maybe they would be sympathetic. She was a starving, stranded eleven-year-old after all, and she could work to earn her keep. At least they would not be trying to kill her or cut off her hair.

She took off the Scanran coat and put it in the bag for good measure. She could stand a few minutes in the cold and she didn't want to take her chances having an archer mistake her for a soldier at a distance and shoot her through. She continued towards the fief with renewed vigour. She crossed a large, muddy road and skirted the tree-covered base of the impressively-sized hill to try and find the path up. She burst into a clearing on the other side. It had soft grass and poppy flowers, just like home. She grinned. Though at home they usually weren't bobbing up and down due to the large rain drops. The hill wasn't as steep from this side and lead up to the large, stone building. The walls were grey and thick with slitted windows for arrows. Hanging drenched and loose from either sides of the main gate were to soggy flags of Tortall. Still, never had the emblem of white and blue seemed so brilliant and majestic. She laughed. The began her walk up the incline, trying all the while to look as friendly and innocent as possible. It would have been easier to ascend if not for the mud and rain rolling down the hill. She tried hard not to lose her footing as she didn't want to knock on the door with her front half caked in mud.

Finally she reached the door. She stared at the grained wood stealing her nerve. She realised she was shivering.

"Who goes there?"

She jumped and looked for the source of the voice. She found a face framed by an of the slit windows designed for arrows. It was a young man with thin blonde hair and a pockmarked face with flinty, light blue eyes. She straightened.

"My name's Layla."

He pockmarked youth looked at her quizically. "Just Layla? What, no surname, no title?"

"Oh, Clarke."

"You're filthy and you're common-born." He peered at her quizzically. "Where are you from?"

"Tortall!"

He sneered through the window. "So why you carrying that Scanran soldier's pack then, eh?"

She shivered. "I stole it!"

"Ha! Likely story."

"I grew up in a town just east of Goldenlake near the boarder of Galla and Tortall! It's called Banroe. It _was_ called Banroe. Scanrans came and raided our village and set fire to it so I ran away only I went the wrong way and ended up in Scanra. I followed the smell of food... it ended in soldiers" The youth's expression remained unchanged. She sniffed. Why didn't he believe her? She was cold standing out here in the rain without her coat on.

Before she could think of another protest a woman with a thin face and untamed chestnut-coloured hair came into view through the window slit instead. "Look at her! In rags and soaked through. Shame on you Vincen! Open the door, open the door." Before she knew it Layla was through the door being lead by the arm through a stone hallway by the middle-aged chestnut-haired woman with the youth, Vincen, reluctantly trailing behind them.

"She's freezing Vincen!" The woman protested while continuing to face forward, "What were you thinking, questioning her out in the rain like that?"

"They told me to question anyone we didn't know- I don't know her and she's carrying a Scanran soldier's pack."

"Goddess give me patience."

Turning to Layla she said, "Sorry about all this dear." When Layla opened her mouth to speak she interrupted her saying "no, you can tell us how you ended up here after you've had a bath, a good, hot meal and I've looked you over. I'm Penra, by the way. I manage goings on here. Welcome to Fief Anak's Eyrie.


End file.
